


the soft animal of your body

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Crowley loves Aziraphale's body, every curve, every inch.





	the soft animal of your body

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most self-indulgent nonsense. however, if you've chosen to read this, i hope you enjoy it.  
> title from Mary Oliver's Wild Geese

Crowley watched as Aziraphale took a sip from his wine glass and emitted a low hum of enjoyment. “A very good vintage, Crowley. Thank you for bringing it over.”

Crowley smiled and tipped his head against the back of his chair. “I wouldn’t enjoy it as much by myself.”

A light blush rose on Aziraphale’s cheeks and Crowley’s smile tilted toward the predatory. He delighted in it. Until a month ago saying even that much would have crossed whatever line Aziraphale had drawn in the sand when it came to their relationship.

And now, oh, and now…

Before Crowley could even finish the thought, Aziraphale stood. “A wine like this deserves a good cheese. I’ll be right back.”

Crowley’s smile faded as he watched Aziraphale shuffle from the room. Perhaps what he had thought was mutually understood was not quite so clear. He stood and followed Aziraphale into his small kitchen to find the angel standing by the window, gripping the edge of the sink. He looked anxious and Crowley didn’t like that at all.

“What’s got you worried, angel?” Crowley asked, coming up behind him and placing his hands on either side of Aziraphale as he pressed his body flush against his back.

Aziraphale gave a little gasp and said, “You say things and I’m not sure you mean them.”

Crowley dipped his head to press a kiss beneath the angel’s ear. “I mean them, Aziraphale. I mean them.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said on a sigh and he turned in Crowley’s arms, eyes shining. Crowley dipped his head until his forehead rested on Aziraphale’s shoulder and ran his hands down the angel’s torso before they came to rest on his hips. He kneaded the flesh he found there and groaned.

He pulled his hands around to the front of Aziraphale’s belly and undid the bottom buttons of his waistcoat before rucking his shirt out of his belt so he could feel his hands on Aziraphale’s bare skin. So he could feel his fingers sink into his soft body.

“Did you know,” Crowley said into the thick fabric covering Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’ve thought about this more times than I can count. You’ve always looked so soft, so warm, so…inviting.”

Aziraphale pulled back to look at Crowley’s face but he could still feel the goosebumps raising on the skin beneath his fingers. These human corporations had their foibles, but it was moments like these where Crowley felt himself thankful for their other, better attributes.

Crowley smirked at the somewhat shell-shocked look on Aziraphale’s face. The smirk covered up his own thundering heart at the prospect of what he was about to do. About what Aziraphale was going to let him do.

He popped the third button on the waistcoat. “I used to be cold,” Crowley said. “All the time. And whenever I was cold, I’d think of you, wrapping around you, pressing my body against yours and being warm.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, sounding choked, as the demon slid his fingers under the knot of his bowtie and swiftly undid it, the ends falling, crumpled against his chest. The simple undoing made the angel look wrecked, more vulnerable even than the unbuttoned waistcoat, the untucked shirt.

Crowley pressed another kiss to Aziraphale’s jaw as he worked open the buttons of his shirt. “Is this ok? I can stop.”

“No – you – it’s fine – I mean…” Aziraphale trailed off on a sigh when Crowley finally got his hands under his shirt, running his fingers through the light hair he found scattered down the angel’s chest. He didn’t think he had ever seen Aziraphale shirtless and he was mourning every century he hadn’t had the opportunity.

Without his shirt, Aziraphale’s belly was even more pronounced, even softer, rolling slightly over his waistband and looking good enough to eat. Crowley fell to his knees and pressed his face into Aziraphale’s stomach running nuzzling kisses over the part of his body that Crowley had always wanted to touch, to feel against him.

Aziraphale’s abdominal muscles jumped under his kisses as the angel’s hands came down to rest on his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, almost a protestation. It sounded weak to Crowley’s ears and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Aziraphale’s hip before answering.

“Making love to you. Thought it was obvious.”

“This hardly seems the time to be smart,” Aziraphale said smacking him gently on the shoulder. Crowley huffed a laugh against his skin.

Crowley undid the belt of his trousers, trying not to laugh at himself for how turned on he was by _khakis_. The ridiculous angel had made him soft. Years ago.

“You are beautiful,” Crowley said between dragging kisses over Aziraphale’s skin, salt and sandalwood. “I saw you that day. In Eden. All bright white and smiles. And I thought: I want to hold you.”

Aziraphale whimpered.

“I want you to hold me,” Crowley finished. He tugged down Aziraphale’s pants exposing the most hideous tartan boxers he had ever seen.

“You really are something else,” Crowley said. “Ridiculous. Perfect. Luxurious. Soft. Love. My love.”

Aziraphale’s hands settled in his hair and then tore his sunglasses from his face. He’d forgotten he was even wearing them. “Let me see you, Crowley.”

Crowley looked up at the angel as his hand came to cup his chin. A thumb brushed over his lower lip and Crowley found himself overwhelmed. He dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s hips and sucked the skin just below his belly button between his teeth.

Aziraphale hissed in pain and Crowley licked over where he had bitten.

A firm tug divested Aziraphle of his last article of clothing and Crowley rested his head on his hip, his breath ghosting over his erection. Part of him wanted to slow down, to savor every second, but he reminded himself that this might be the first time but it wasn’t the last.

He licked down Aziraphale’s pelvis and then dipped to nibble his way up his thighs. If his stomach was soft then it had nothing on his thighs. Crowley wanted to live between them forever, their heat encasing him.

Enjoying the noises his angel was making more than he thought possible, Crowley finally took him into his mouth, still ghosting his hands over his legs, his buttocks, his hips, trying to mark every soft piece of flesh he could find.

It was over far too quickly, Crowley secretly wishing he could have stayed there, body pressed against Aziraphale, cock hot in his mouth, for at least a century. But when it was over, Aziraphale miracled them into his bed and pulled Crowley against him, licking into his mouth in clumsy desperation.

But when Aziraphale removed his clothes and went to return the favor, Crowley pulled away and shook his head. “Not right now. This. Please. More of this.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a moment, brow furrowed and still delightfully pink cheeked.

Crowley looked up at the ceiling and steeled himself. He was being dreadfully soppy. “I just want you to hold me, all right?” he confessed, the words slightly sharp with embarrassment.

Aziraphale laughed but it wasn’t mocking. “You just had to ask, my darling.”

Aziraphale laid back against the pillows and Crowley tucked himself against his side, his sharp edges enveloped by Aziraphale’s softness. He traced shapes into the angel’s chest as Aziraphale played with his hair.

“You know, Gabriel made a comment about my weight.”

Crowley felt a low rumble in his chest, the beginning of a snarl.

“Told me I should ‘lose the gut.’” Aziraphale continued lightly.

“Don’t you dare!” Crowley said, sitting up and glaring down at Aziraphale who looked as smug as Crowley had ever seen him.

“Really, Crowley, I’ve existed for six thousand years. I’m not suddenly self-conscious. That’s not why I’m telling you.”

Crowley scowled but tentatively settled back down onto his chest. He closed his eyes at the sensation. So warm.

“I’m telling you because, if I’d known you held such an interest, I would have perhaps been a little more forceful in my reply.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I was feeling rather distressed at the time.”

“Apocalypse?” Crowley asked.

“Apocalypse,” Aziraphale confirmed. Crowley murmured, sleepy and content against his angel’s side. He tossed his leg over Aziraphale’s thigh and pulled him closer.

“You’ll have to let me go eventually,” Aziraphale said as he continued to draw circles on Crowley’s bare back.

“Donwanna.” Crowley’s tongue felt thick in his mouth as his eyelids dropped.

Aziraphale’s chest moved as he laughed. “I suppose there’s no rush.”

Crowley smiled. There really wasn’t.


End file.
